


Self-Help

by williamastankova



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bottom Will, Caring Hannibal Lecter, Choking, Dare, Fluff and Smut, Kink Discovery, M/M, Mild Kink, Mild Smut, Non-Explicit Sex, Possessive Hannibal Lecter, Smut, Top Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 16:37:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17471135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamastankova/pseuds/williamastankova
Summary: "I want you to bring yourself to orgasm, by using me."





	Self-Help

They're not _together_. Whatever this is, it's not a relationship, because they've never said it is. Maybe there's feelings there, maybe there isn't, but what Will knows for certain is that nowadays, they aren't so afraid. Not of each other, at least. In fact, they're even /trusting/, which surprised him at first, and was likely why he'd let himself start staying over at Hannibal's, and sleeping in the same bed together. Whether appropriate or not, he'd gradually learned how fantastically elegant Hannibal was in bed: his previous physical relationships with other people had never been like this, not even in his imagination.

This night, however, they'd come to bed, not to sleep but just to lay together. Will lay in a half-fetal position, curled up against Hannibal with a leg stretched over his hips, relishing in the warmth Hannibal's hand on his thigh provided. He could hear the sound beating of his heart, the steady breathing as his chest rose and fell, and he thought he could sleep forever, right there and then, in an endless state of peace. That is, until Hannibal decided to break their silence with an admittedly strange proposition.

"I want you to bring yourself to orgasm, by using me."

Will's head instinctively snapped up. He caught Hannibal's eyes, which looked serious. He couldn't suppress a small scoff, taking refuge at the back of his throat. "What?"

Hannibal re-adjusted his position, taking to leaning back with both hands resting under his head. He looked like something out of an old, black-and-white gangster film, only he was missing the cigar. "I want you to do whatever necessary to make yourself orgasm, without my deliberate intervention."

Will pondered for a moment. He felt the idea make his cheeks flush, but it wasn't entirely... unpleasant. Sure, he was beyond embarrassed, because this was something so submissive that he was considering, and he wasn't entirely used to that yet, but the idea delighted some integral part of him, and so he supposed that was what made him nod silently, and slip a hand into his boxers.

He didn't bother to shift his hips away from Hannibal's as he began touching himself. After all, the rules were that he could _use_  Hannibal, as long as he wasn't actively involved. Still, under the watchful eye of the doctor, Will felt himself break into a premature sweat. He couldn't look in Hannibal's eyes as he bucked into his own hand, and he muffled himself using his shoulder when a whine willed its way up his throat.

He changed his angle slightly, so he could best suit his needs. He raised himself, leaning on his elbow, and rolled his hips forward once again, and was caught off guard by a suppressed sound slipping gently from his lips. He panicked somewhat and snapped his hips forward, only worsening the situation as he made the same sound again, only louder this time. He checked on Hannibal, and found him watching intently as Will pleasured himself. Something about how nonchalant he looked irked Will, and he decided to change his method.

There was no strict ruling that had been explained to him which said he couldn't get Hannibal off, too. So, losing the hand from his underwear and his dignity at the same time, he started palming Hannibal through the thin material of his shorts, and a small splint of pride lit in him when Hannibal's eyes fell closed and he steadied himself with a hand firmly beside him on the bed. Despite it being under the comforter, Will was sure his fingers and toes were all curling, digging into the mattress beneath them, as he tried not to lose his self-control. Will would change that.

In next to no time, Hannibal's writhing. Will's hand's moved from the outside of his underwear to the inside, and he's gently pumping Hannibal, trying to find the best angle to get him off at. They hadn't done this many times before, so they weren't completely familiar with the other's tastes, nor their sweet spots or kinks. That was, Will had always proposed, one of the best parts of a new... whatever this was. And maybe, with it being so amazing, it didn't need a name. Whatever turned significant; nothing turned into something. Nothing could label how Will felt, especially not when they were like this, and Hannibal's back was arching, a hand favouring scratching the bed beside Will to his leg, mere inches away.

Hannibal's breath hitched, and Will felt his whole body tighten. Eager to see how he looked, Will desperately tried to focus his eyes, and managed to do so just as his mouth formed an 'o' and he released. Will didn't miss the feeling of the impact on his hand, and this gave him a brilliant idea: one to make Hannibal finally crack, and give him what he wanted.

With his clean hand, he grasped Hannibal's jaw. Not aggressive, but firm, so he could manoeuvre his face and make him look at him. His eyes fluttered open at the contact, and he released a breath he'd been holding in as he came. Slowly, steadily, with purpose, Will brought the dirtied hand to his mouth, maintaining eye contact with Hannibal all the while, and licked it clean. He started at the fingertips, where he'd managed to catch some of Hannibal's come, but he saw how much more effected the doctor was when he moved his tongue down, and began licking the mess away like an animal - like a man gone mad. If he hadn't just come, Will figured it wouldn't have taken him more than three seconds to become fully hard. Hell, he'd even managed to arouse himself more in the process, if that was even humanely possible.

It took a moment. They held each other's eyes, each daring the other to continue, and then...

Nothing.  
Will had never felt so defeated in his life. With one final, futile attempt at getting himself off, he brushed his bulge against the swell of Hannibal's upper thigh, but to no avail whatsoever. He groaned, and buried himself in Hannibal's shoulder, then rolled over in frustration and curled up, having only his back rest minutely against Hannibal's side. A hand splayed out on his back, and he felt the doctor roll over, in a way not to dissimilar to how they usually spooned. Then again, that was after sex - successful sex - and Will was still rolling about in turmoil, devastated and embarrassed, and _unbelievably turned on_.

A breath came, hot, into the shell of his ear. The words rolled significantly afterwards, sensually whispered into his neck.  
"You've failed," Hannibal announced. His voice wasn't judging, but it annoyed Will immensely still, "You haven't come yet."

Aggrevated and immensely frustrated with himself, Will could only nod, and await the next words.  
"What are you going to do now?" Hannibal's voice travelling from his hair to his shoulders as he inspected his body closely sounded like a purr, "What if I just leave you here, like this?"

Will really did try to fight the urge to look over his shoulder at Hannibal, an undoubted look of immense shock plastered over his face, but he couldn't win. He feels warm, boiling, like Hannibal's gaze is the surface of the sun in that instance. "You wouldn't do that."

There's another sigh, which sends tingles of goosebumps rising all across his skin. 'No, you're quite right.' Hannibal admits in a whisper, then asks, "I wonder why that is?"

There's no time for Will to respond in any way, because he'd being virtually manhandled, brought back over onto his back and his legs are suddenly in the air. He knew Hannibal wanted to help him all along, but the escalation surprises even him. Then again, he can't find anything in him that tells him he dislikes it whatsoever, so he lets his lips grin as he looks up into Hannibal's face. The doctor plants himself between Will's legs, and ducks his head to kiss his neck as he starts rolling his hips into Will.

He feels ridiculous. Here he is, a grown man, letting himself be touched - used, almost - by the man above him. Actually, no, not any man, _Hannibal Lecter_  confirmed convict and psychopath/serial killer. But yet, knowing all of this and having it mulling around in the background of his mind, he loves it. Every inch of him, it seems, is trying to touch Hannibal as his grinding turns to thrusting, like they're teenagers afraid to take off their clothes. His head tilts to the side, effectively trapping Hannibal's head in the crook of his neck, forcing more kisses onto his skin. He's got his arms wrapped around Hannibal's neck, tugging their chests as close as physics and their ribcages will allow, and his legs have tangled themselves around his waist, desperate to accentuate every movement Hannibal's hips make. It's /glorious/, and then it's over.

Well, not over, per sé. He hasn't finished yet, but Hannibal untangles them, removing all points of contact except the occasional brush of their hips as he keeps thrusting up into Will, who notices he's starting to get hard again, which makes the sensation about a hundred thousand times better, because Hannibal wants this, wants him, and he can have it. All of it is his, and he seems to recognise this, because he brings one hand to Will's member, and the other up to wrap expertly around Will's neck.

Knowing the man above him, Will should probably be frightened. He should instantly think that his intention is to kill him, cook him, and eat him, but he doesn't. Maybe it's true that Hannibal wants to devour him, but not like that. He doesn't think of Will the same as others, like a food source, like a meal. He's something to be savoured, which Will imagines is why he's always kissing his open skin and sucking little marks into his neck and chest, and this is another declaration. This, his hands around Will's throat, pressing just hard enough to send a rush of hybrid adrenaline and ecstasy coursing through Will's veins, is a declaration of possession. Though they're the only ones there, they're the only ones that need to know. Hannibal is telling Will that he's his, _'_ _mine'_ , his actions hiss, and the noises Will's letting fall from his mouth are in concurrence: _'yours'_ , he weeps, more desperate for release than he's ever been.

It's so impactful, when he comes, that he blacks out for a moment. When he comes to, he can breathe fully, and he even kind of misses the feeling of restraint Hannibal had around his throat. He looks around, catching Hannibal cleaning up a little, removing the come from his hand. When he catches sight of Will admiring him, he smirks, and drops the cloth he's been using to rejoin Will in bed.

"I thought I'd lost you for a minute." He admits, clambering back under the covers, where Will hasn't moved from. "I was... frightened."

Will lets himself smile, and he curls back up into Hannibal's chest. So, if his words are ironic, who's to say it's his place to call him out on it? Besides, he forgets all sense when Hannibal's hand comes up to his hair and settles, brushing the strands back. With a quick look cast upwards, he sees Hannibal staring down at him, and Will figures he's trying to stay awake until he sleeps.

"Is this sentiment, Doctor Lecter?" Will teases, but the question isn't entirely insincere. The way they're being, the way they are, it's all just hit Will, and now he's curious.

Hannibal releases a little 'hmm' sound, but doesn't answer the question, just buries his face in the hair atop Will's head, and murmurs, "You were still unsuccessful, Will."

Will lets his eyes fall shut, heavy with sleep and adoration. He thinks privately he could stay like this forever, and briefly considers admitting it aloud to Hannibal, but doesn't. Instead, he opts for something else, something more genuine, wrapped in a pretty, conceiving little bow. He nuzzles into Hannibal's chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his core, hearing his heart beat, having the breaths he releases fall across his body, and then he speaks:

"Doesn't feel like it."


End file.
